Dance of the Twelve Hours of the Day
by ChaoticRetribution
Summary: A poetry collection concerning Reis.
1. I

_**A burning passion**_

_Like the beech trees swaying in the breeze,_

_A slender woman sits upon the emerald lawns._

_Like a peaceful dove, sleeping at ease_

_A lady, whose love has yet to dawn._

_Many a year she has spent in solitude;_

_Many a year she had spent in cold;_

_No longer will she contend_

_With the lonesome spirit within her soul._

_For a passion, a passion so bright_

_A passion so fiery, a love so warm_

_Her blazing soul, set alight_

_By a young knight, Beowulf Kadmus._

_Warrior of a religious doctrine,_

_Committed to his blade by day,_

_Dedicated to his love by the moonshine,_

_Under Luna's pale light they say,_

'_We shall be together,_

_In death, as in life._

_To live together,_

_Forevermore._

_Sealing the promise with a maiden's kiss,_

_Under the stone arch and austere inside_

_Of a church, divine and full of bliss_

_The two lovers made their covenant. _


	2. II

_**Passion of Caring**_

'_Twas one snowing wintry evening,_

_Snow and ice abound in the fields;_

_Fields once productive and green_

_And now barren and ravaged._

_One flaming house in the distance;_

_One fiery construct of timber_

_One burning remains of memories_

_And all the loving it holds._

_A man, walking slowly away,_

_In the fields of cold,_

_A man, walking with a woman_

_In his arms of warmth._

_The woman, fairest of virgins,_

_Fair Reis Dular, the dragons' child,_

_The woman, fairest of humans_

_Reis Dular, the lady stricken with grief._

_For her family brigands had slain;_

_Her family, thieves have torched;_

_Her home, her memories thrown into chaos_

_As all that she knew vanished in flame._

_Her new life begins this snowy evening,_

_A new life of passion and love;_

_Taught by her lover and saviour,_

_Who had rescued her from the flames of death._

_Into his house she is admitted;_

_A house of warriors and squires,_

_A house of men serving the holy church_

_And a home for knights under the king._

_Bedridden she was for days,_

_Her body broken by the brigands,_

_But her spirit they cannot extinguish,_

_For it was drowned in anguish._

_Her lover, Sir Beowulf Kadmus,_

_A leader of the Holy Knights,_

_Took charge of her healing;_

_His battle-scarred hands,_

_Lined with the touch of healing,_

_His voice, uttering spells of cure_

_Instead of his usual cries of war._

_Her slender body, recovering_

_Under his strict care, received_

_Strength anew, as though reborn_

_And before the twelfth of the twelfth,_

_To casual normality returned._

Well? Am I doing anything wrong? Or am I doing something right? In any case, I wouldn't know what you're thinking unless you told me. I hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing this.


	3. III

_**Passion of Peace**_

_A peaceful golden dawn,_

_A morning of silver silence,_

_The sanctity of holiness_

_Undisturbed, in the city of Lionel._

_Sunlight streaming into the room_

_In which the two lovers lay asleep,_

_One embracing the other, as if_

_In a trance of lucidity._

_Golden locks of hair, streaming_

_From the female's head,_

_Enveloping her beloved in_

_A cascade of sunlight._

_The caress of a callused hand,_

_On the woman's smooth skin;_

_What greater pleasure does she_

_Deserve; other than the company_

_Of the one she cares about;_

_Of the one she loves;_

_Of the only man that she knows._

_The only man that truly loves her._

_A gentle passion,_

_Enveloped in silence,_

_A silence so peaceful_

_That time seems to fade._

Well, this one is…well…intended to deliver a hidden meaning. See if you can pick it up. It's got something to do with my life at the moment.


	4. IV

**_Aria of Divine Beauty_**

_A golden youth in gold so bright,_

_Silver-skinned, framed in silver light,_

_Kneeling before sacred altar,_

_Staring into the high heavens far,_

_An air of sanctity so strong,_

_In her eyes one could find no wrong,_

_In the halls of the justice great,_

_A home to a god grand in state._

_Slowly she rose from the marble,_

_Her linen robes lined with sable,_

_White it was in starkness,_

_Save for a streak of darkness._

_So it was for her clouded mind,_

_A deep guilt she had never bound,_

_The sins of the people weighty,_

_Never ceasing, always plenty._

'_Twas never for a moment hers,_

_A soul pure as the clearest glass,_

_Without shadow of baser stains,_

_This state forever she retains._

_Moulded on core of solid steel,_

_A coating of transparent seal,_

_Crystalline in nature, so thin_

_A coating of soft, smoothest skin._

_Many a day she would lament,_

_Sins of the people increment,_

_Redemption beyond her pow'r to ask_

_A complex, precarious task_

_O, Sacrifice herself she must,_

_To fulfill the people's cruel lust_

_For blood and glory above all,_

_Never seeking beauty withal._

_A farewell she gives her true love,_

_An honorable, faithful dove;_

_Questioning sudden departure,_

_A dreadful fate she must endure._

_Jealousy and greed her bane,_

_Shattered her body and brain,_

_As the cruelty of man crushed_

_Her own body and soul untouched._

_The atrocity by a priest,_

_Creation of a holy beast;_

_From the body and bones of Reis,_

_Holy maid of Lionel, Reis._

_Golden hair reduced to spiny crest,_

_Bone plate where there was human breast,_

_Scales of complexion deepest blue,_

_Appearance created anew._

_Through her sufferings many were saved;_

_Heretics whom she protected;_

_Outcasts and stragglers befriended;_

_Those that would have certainly perished._

_Twelve years long and slow she suffered,_

_Twelve years long she had fought and bled;_

_A holy war for equality_

_To redeem the peoples' sanctity._

_Upon her return, there was no feast;_

_Upon her return, there was no beast;_

_Through the power of faithfulness_

_The holy maiden of Lionel had been renewed._

Well, I tried my best, and here's the product of three hours' painstaking recorrections and rewritings. I'm seriously reconsidering if I should put The Last Dragoner on hold until more people read it. The next part that I'm planning…made me cry. It will be hard for me to write it.


	5. V

_Divine Duty_

In fair Lionel, home of lord and sir,

A lady sits, beneath a maple tree;

Golden yellow leaves falling about her

Matching her flowing hair, so fair to see.

Pulchritude beyond finest fantasy,

Endowed with slender form and graceful gait,

As fine a woman as fine can e'er be,

Reis Dular, the pure and holiest maid.

Her mind like a soft and smooth silken braid,

Mirror to a world one will never know,

Of sadness and tranquility, unsaid

Memories that haunt, feelings down below;

Suffering till the day she dies she will;

A duty so harsh, refuse it she nill.


End file.
